


Liza Otherlander's Wedding

by bookhobbit



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 18:03:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5173859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookhobbit/pseuds/bookhobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucy's sister was getting married. Nobody expected "you're all invited" to encompass Mr Norrell, and yet here they were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liza Otherlander's Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Another thing that was a result of a conversation with Moll. Also another things-I'm-finishing thing. I've got one more new thing I'm writing this evening and then I should at least be switching fandoms for a short while so I'll stop spamming a little. SORRY.

"She's getting married!" Lucy grabbed Dido by the arms and danced her around the servants' hall. Dido let her, though the girl was so small she could hardly steer her.

"She's getting married, Dido!"

"So you said, dear," said Dido, "'appen you could tell me who?"

"My sister Liza! She's been seeing her man for years and he asked her and she's going to be married!"

"Ah, that's lovely. Have you had a letter?"

"Not yet." Lucy released Dido and twirled once around the room by herself. "I'll have one when Mr Childermass comes in with the mail."

Dido gave Hannah a glance out the corner of her eye. Hannah shrugged. "It's the fairy blood, I reckon," she said. "Johnny was just the same way when he was a boy, you know."

"Childermass has never got fairy blood," said Lucas from the corner. "He's not pretty enough."

"That's not what you said the other week," said Davey, grinning. Lucas elbowed him hard.

"Oh, probably not," said Hannah, "But he did just that sort of thing. You never know. And you needn't even pretend, Lucas, we all know that - "

But at that moment their argument was interrupted by Childermass opening the door and stamping in, his greatcoat still on. He stopt and raised an eyebrow, watching Lucy twirl around the hall.

"Why is she dancing?" he asked.

"Because you're about to give her some good news, apparently," said Hannah. "She's as uncanny as you were at that age, I swear."

"I am at that," said Childermass, apparently ignoring the latter comment. "Lucy Otherlander. Here you are."

Lucy danced her way over to him and took the letter. She opened it and her smile broadened.

"Oh, she's so happy," she said, sighing. "You're all invited."

"We don't even know the girl," said Hannah.

"You're all invited anyhow. You too, Mr Childermass." This Lucy addressed to him shyly, but with a certain determined set to her chin that everyone knew meant business.

"If you say so I'm sure I'll end up there anyway, like it or not," said Childermass. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go take the master his own letters. Good day to you all."

He swept out, greatcoat flapping dramatically.

"He's ridiculous," said Hannah, with sororal pride.

-

"Lucy's sister is getting married," said Childermass, dropping Mr Norrell's letters on the desk.

"Yes?" said Mr Norrell without much interest.

"I think you'd be wise to send a gift along."

"Why?" Mr Norrell looked up. "We do not employ her sister, do we?"

"Her sister's nearly the only family she has got," said Childermass, "And she's very excited about the whole business. We've spoken before about the need to engender loyalty. Little things like this, that's one way. Besides, you know she's Tom Otherlander's granddaughter, and it does well to remember families who stick with you."

"I suppose," said Mr Norrell. He sighed. "Very well. I suppose fifteen guineas will be sufficient?"

Childermass gave him an odd look, which Mr Norrell entirely failed to notice. "Aye," he said, "It'll do."

"You will give it to the girl to give to her sister, then?"

"Yes, if you do not wish to do it yourself."

"I see no reason why I should," said Mr Norrell. "You are much better at this sort of thing anyway."

"As you wish, sir," said Childermass, and went out.

-

"I've brought you a present, Liza!" said Lucy, rocking forward on her toes in excitement.

They had days out in common now, and so if they could they liked to meet every so often. On this specific occasion it seemed essential, for Lucy did not want to send such a lot of money by post. Heaven only knew who would get to it.

"A present for what?" said Liza, clasping her sister's hands. "Oh, you look well! They must be feeding you at that great house you work in."

"They do, Hannah and Dido make sure of it. But never mind that! Look!" Lucy waved the envelope. "It's for your wedding!"

"From you? I'd have thought you'd wait."

"No, no. From Mr Norrell, the one I work for."

"Why did he give you a present?"

Lucy shrugged. "Mr Childermass - that's the one who runs the place really - he says in memory of grandfather's long service, or something like that. I don't know. It's money, that's what I know."

Liza raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's always welcome," she said, and opened the envelope.

Her eyes widened.

"Lucy, this is - this is fifteen guineas!"

"I thought it might be quite a lot," said Lucy. "It was heavy, the envelope."

"Good God. Fifteen guineas. Do you think he'd come to the wedding, Lu? If I sent an invitation, I mean? I could give you one to pass to him."

"He will," said Lucy with cast-iron certainty. "I'll make sure of it."

-

The little maid - Mr Norrell was fairly certain this one was Lucy, because the others were taller - brought the tea in and bobbed a cursty. Mr Norrell put his book down and reached for the teacup.

"Sir," said Lucy in a tiny voice. This was unusual enough. For quite a long time she had would not say a single word to him. It didn't trouble him; he did not require his maids to be garrulous or friendly, just competent. Childermass said she was afraid of him, which he found very peculiar.

"Yes?" he ventured in return.

"Sir, I have this - " she held out a small envelope. "It's from my sister. I hope you will forgive the liberty but she was very thankful for your gift and she thought that perhaps it might not be too impertinent to invite you to the wedding?"

"The wedding?"

"Yes, sir." She bobbed another curtsy. "It would do her a great honor, sir."

"I see," said Mr Norrell, taking the small envelop gingerly, as if it might combust. "Well. I will let you know."

"Yes, sir," said Lucy, and curtsied a third time before going out of the room.

Mr Norrell drank his tea with an eye on the envelope. When he was finished he opened it, read it briefly, and rang for Childermass, who silently appeared a few minutes later.

"Look at this," said Mr Norrell waving the envelope. "It's an invitation. To her sister's wedding."

"She did say everyone was to be invited," said Childermass, leaning against a pillar. "Didn't know that was to include you, but I am not surprized."

"I cannot go. I wouldn't know what to do at a wedding."

"Oh, go on," said Childermass, "I've gone with you to deal with your relatives, and you know they're worse than this. You could come and give me someone to complain with."

"I'm not going to - " began Mr Norrell.

Lucy came back in to remove the tea tray. She seemed to falter when she realized both Mr Norrell and Childermass were in the room, but then curtsied again and looked up at Mr Norrell.

"Have you decided yet?" she asked softly. "I would like to be able to give my sister an answer."

Mr Norrell looked at her. Her eyes were very large, and reminded him of a puppy a friend of his uncle's once had. He found it very difficult to deny them.

He looked back at Childermass in speechless appeal.

Childermass raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"I suppose," said Mr Norrell helplessly, "That you had better tell her yes."

-

"You ought to get a new suit," said Hannah when Childermass came into the servant's hall the next day to see to something in the accounts.

"What?" Childermass went over to the kitchen-accounts and opened them, peering in at them.

"I said you ought to get a new suit. That one you're wearing ain't fit to be seen at a wedding."

"Don't see why my clothes won't serve." Childermass looked up from the book, frowning.

"Because they're all fifteen years out of date," said Hannah in exasperation. "Come on, Lucy will be expecting it. I know you can afford it, you old skinflint. Keep it as your best, in case you have to go to any other affairs."

"Oh, fine."

"And brush your hair. And have a shave. You can't show up to a wedding looking like a scarecrow."

Childermass threw her a look.

"Don't look at me that way, John Childermass. You know the girl deserves that much consideration."

Childermass sighed. "Aye," he said reluctantly. "She does. Fine."

Hannah's expression went sly. "And beyond that," she said, "I bet he'll like it."

"I don't know who you're talking about."

"You know exactly who I mean."

"I don't dress to please Mr Norrell."

"Perhaps you should?"

"No. He'd not even notice, believe me. No more than I care how he dresses."

"Hm," said Hannah. "Well, we'll see."

-

The day of the wedding dawned very clear, a little cool for early September. The party was to take place only a few miles away. Hannah, Dido, Lucy, and Lucas rose early to get their work done, and walked down as the sun climbed towards noon. Childermass and Mr Norrell took the coach, and with it Davey.

There was a great deal of food and drink. Someone passed them a glass each of brandy. Mr Norrell was not much of a drinker, but he took it dubiously.

"Just hang on to it, sir," said Childermass. "Politeness."

They sat down at one of the large rough tables, drinks in hand. The music was lively and loud, and there seemed to be quite a few people dancing. Mr Norrell sat down in a chair and shrank against it.

"Come on, Mr Childermass!" Lucy stopt at their table as they settled, breathless from dancing. "Aren't you going to join?"

Childermass shrugged, and stood up. "This one's all right," he said. "No harm in it, I suppose."

"Mr Norrell?" said Lucy.

"No," said Mr Norrell. "I do not dance."

"Why not? It's fun."

Mr Norrell gave her a sour look and sunk further back into his chair. "I assure you," he said, "It is not."

"Oh," said Lucy, subsiding a little. "Well, Mr Childermass, would you dance with me?"

"I would be honored," said Childermass, bowing to her and taking her hand.

Mr Norrell returned to his brandy. He was not very fond of the taste, but at least it gave him an excuse. Childermass was whirling most impressively - with less dexterity, perhaps, than Lucy herself, but he seemed to know all of the steps.

Mr Norrell did not know all of the steps. He did not know any of them. There had been a dancing-master when he was eleven, but that had not gone well. Anyway, this was country dance.

Childermass looked very… He looked very pleasant dancing that way. His hair flew into his face and he was smiling. It was definitely a smile, not a smirk. Lucy did seem to bring that out in him. Mr Norrell wondered if it was because she was so young. Did Childermass have siblings? He had never thought about it before.

He took another sip of the brandy and gazed into the glass to avoid contemplating the matter any further.

Of course it did not work like that. Childermass returned after the first dance to perpetuate further betrayal.

"You ought to join," he said, "It's sociable."

"I am not sociable," said Mr Norrell. "Nor are you."

"Not generally, but I can extend myself every once in a while."

"I cannot dance, Childermass," said Mr Norrell.

"It is not difficult."

"The steps look complicated."

"A child of ten can do it. Sir. I would assume you have that much dexterity."

Mr Norrell pursed his lips. "You're going to bother me about this until I do it."

"Not at all."

"Yes you are. I can see you planning it."

Childermass shrugged as if he could not be bothered to refute the proposition.

"Very well," said Mr Norrell, setting his glass down with a clunk. "All right. I will. And everyone will laugh at me and I will lose my reputation and it will all be your fault."

The corners of Childermass's mouth pressed together tightly, as if he was suppressing a smile. "It won't be as bad as all that. I promise."

"You'll see," said Mr Norrell.

"Come on," said Childermass, taking him by the hand. Mr Norrell looked down at the hands.

"Don't worry," said Childermass under his breath, "No one'll think anything of it - I'm teaching you to dance."

Mr Norrell nodded.

Lucy danced up to them and said, "Oh! You joined!"

"Aye," said Mr Norrell grudgingly. "But I do not know the steps."

"Well, watch Mr Childermass and me," said Lucy. "If that's all right?"

"Do him good to get a bit of close watching in," said Childermass, and took her hand, letting Mr Norrell free for the moment.

Their feet seemed a whirl to Mr Norrell.

"I cannot observe any thing," said Mr Norrell crossly. "It looks like a mess."

"Slower, Lucy."

By degrees, he began to work out the steps to the dance in question. It involved a great deal of putting your feet in various places very quickly, which made him uneasy. He felt that it would be very easy to step on some unsuspecting person's feet and said so.

"It happens," agreed Childermass.

"You two should try it," said Lucy. "You have to practice sometime."

"Come, sir," said Childermass, taking Mr Norrell's hand.

Again Mr Norrell tensed. Childermass whispered, "It is safe. They will think I am the only person you trust to teach you dancing."

"You are," muttered Mr Norrell.

"See there? It is not the least bit suspicious."

Mr Norrell nodded, and attempted to dance with Childermass.

He felt more as if he was being pushed about, but after a few airs, the feel of it came a little more naturally.

"There now. I think you're ready," said Childermass, releasing him and bowing.

"Ready? Ready for what?"

"To dance with someone who is not me."

"What?"

"Go on, sir. It'll be all right."

Mr Norrell frowned, but turned to the crowd and sought out the nearest available lady who did not look too young or sprightly. He found himself with Elizabeth Otherlander, Tom Otherlander's widow, who remembered him from a child.

"Little Gilbert!" she exclaimed, reaching out as if to pinch his cheeks and then stopping herself. "Been ages since I seen you. How have you been keeping yourself, lad?"

"Lad?" said Mr Norrell who, well into his forties, thought had left the word far behind.

"Ah, you mustn't mind me, sir. I'm sixty-eight years old, you know. All of you are children to me. May I have the honor of a dance?"

"I suppose so," said Mr Norrell cautiously, for if she was sixty-eight then surely she would be a sober and slow dancer and he would be able to keep up.

This was a dreadful mistake. For a woman of such advanced years, the Widow Otherlander seemed to be able to stomp around at a great rate. And as she went, she told all the other ladies things like, "Look! Little Gilbert's come down for my Liza's wedding!" Quite aside from the insult of being called little, he was hard-pressed to keep up with the speed of her feet.

Mr Norrell found himself passed around a crowd of old ladies, all apparently very pleased that the rarely-seen master of Hurtfew had seen fit to join them. It was some time before he could wrest himself away. No one seemed particularly to mind that he found the entire business of dancing both confusing and difficult. He was quite certain that he stepped on several feet, but no objections were forthcoming.

Quite out of breath, he escaped and found his way back to his chair.

-

When Childermass returned from dancing he found Mr Norrell sitting and nursing a small glance of brandy, looking quite exhausted.

"How did it go, then?" he asked.

"You saw perfectly well."

"It was all right," said Childermass. "Nobody made fun of you, did they?"

"No. But - " Mr Norrell's nose wrinkled. "Do you know Lucy's grandmother? Tom Otherlander's widow?"

"Aye, I know her."

Mr Norrell took a sip of his brandy. "Well, I danced with her. She smiled at me," he said in an injured tone. "She called me a poor lonely lad."

Childermass hid his mouth in his hand.

"It's not funny," said Mr Norrell. "She called me _sweet_. She nearly pinched my cheeks!"

"Did she?" said Childermass, raising his eyebrows and valiantly maintaining his straight face.

"I am not sweet, Childermass. I am forty-three."

"There's no accounting for the ways of old ladies, sir," said Childermass. He tried to avoid the thought creeping up, which was _you can be sometimes, rarely, when you're not thinking about it._

"I suppose not," said Mr Norrell dubiously.

There was a pause. "There are certainly a lot of young ladies wanting to dance with you," said Mr Norrell.

Childermass shrugged. "I did not notice."

"I suppose this is to be the end of it," Mr Norrell fretted. "I suppose you will find some woman of your own station with golden hair who can dance remarkably well and you will go and marry her and leave my service. Weddings are contagious, I've been told."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Childermass. "I don't want any women with golden hair. Not at present."

"But there are so many who want to dance with you."

"And I like to dance," said Childermass. "These sorts, anyway. Sometimes. But it's only in fun, sir. I've no interest in marrying any of them."

"Oh!" said Mr Norrell.

"Never thought tha'd be the jealous type," said Childermass, his tone suddenly low and amused as he switched pronouns. This was something he usually only did in private and then rarely, but the situation seemed to warrant it. "Never thought tha'd notice."

"I can hardly avoid it," said Mr Norrell disapprovingly. "They seem to be all over."

"Well," said Childermass, "Tha shouldn't worry about that. I'm quite content with what I have, in the scheme of things."

"You are?" said Mr Norrell.

"Yes." Childermass leaned forward and found Mr Norrell's hand under the table, just for a moment.

Mr Norrell's expression was something quite different now. He gazed at Childermass for a long moment, then looked around them. They were mostly alone. After a moment of apparent consideration, he rose and pulled Childermass towards a dark corner where, Childermass noted, they were not likely to be interrupted or observed.

"There is some business I would like to discuss with you," he said, "If you don't mind."

-

Hannah and Dido were dancing now - not, strictly speaking, correct form, but no-one ever minded much around here. Dido's family had been in Yorkshire longer than the Raven King and, while they didn't have money, they had reputation. Nobody was going to bother her or whoever was with her.

"It's good we got the chance to get out," said Hannah. "I don't see enough of your face at work."

"You share a room with me."

"Yes, but that's nights. That hardly counts. Most of the time we're both too tired to say two words."

"True enough," said Dido, lacing her small brown hand with Hannah's. "I suppose we could use an outing. If only for the chance to relax a little."

Childermass reappeared mysteriously from wherever he'd been. He was terribly mussed, but he certainly didn't appear to be upset about it.

"Don't you look like the cat that got the cream," said Hannah, raising an eyebrow.

"Your hair's a mess," said Dido, reaching up to fuss with it. "Looks like someone's hands have been all through it."

Childermass twitched. He wasn't blushing, but Hannah could tell this was by conscious effort, and he looked mutinous.

"I told you he'd like it," said Hannah smugly. "And wasn't I right?"

"Shut up," said Childermass, but he couldn't seem to quite wipe the smile off his face.


End file.
